When worlds collide
by The Young Writer's Apprentice
Summary: When Sherlock falls, John surprises them both by doing something unexpected. Mycroft sends them to America so John can learn how to control his new found powers. But when Sherlock gets bored, and somebody expresses his hate for mutants through crimes, things really start to get interesting.
1. Chapter 1

"This phone call – it's,.. er it's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"

John stared up at Sherlock in horror. Sherlock was still standing on the edge of the rooftop, and it seemed like he had every intention of stepping off.

John pressed his phone to his face again.

"leave a note, when?" he asked, although he knew exactly when people left a note like this. He refused to except it though.

"Good bye, John." Sherlock answered. John watched with a growing feeling of terror as his best friend dropped his phone, spread his arms and leant forwards.

"No, SHERLOCK!" John felt a burst of power, and he ran towards the hospital, completely ignoring his surroundings. The only thing on his mind was getting to Sherlock, and he desperately wished that the world would stop.

When he finally reached the pavement, chanting: "Don't die, Sherlock, don't die." In his head over and over, he got the shock of his life. Floating barely 10 cm above the ground, was Sherlock, unable to move anything but his eyes.

John turned around, and watched how the world around him was motionless, as if somebody had just pushed the pause button of his life. There were birds hanging still in the air, cars that didn't move, as if London was holding its breath.

What happened afterwards was a bit of a blur to John. He remembered embracing Sherlock, who had franticly pushed him into Bart's after John let him go, making sure they were away from windows. Sherlock had called Mycroft, and after a hushed conversation over the phone -which John knew he loaded, because the detective preferred texting after all- he told John what happened on the rooftop.

x-x

Now John found himself outside the office of Charles Xavier, one of the most powerful mutants the world knew. Because that was the explanation for what happened during the fall, as John had started to call the incident in his head, John was a mutant.

John was shaken out of his thoughts when a young girl opened the door from the inside. She had dark hair with white strikes, and she wore long gloves.

"Are you okay?" John asked gently, reaching out to put a hand on the girls shoulder. The girl's teary eyes widened and she backed away, as if afraid of the touch.

"I'm fine." She replied, a little too quickly, before wiping her face with a gloved hand and hurrying away.

"Come in." A gentle voice said, and John entered the room. In front of the fire place was a bald man in a wheelchair. 'Sit down Dr. Watson, I bet you have a lot of questions."

John's eyes widened slightly, he had heard Charles speak clearly, but the man hadn't moved his mouth.

"In my head?" John muttered, and Charles smiled at him.

"You are fast." Charles spoke out loud. John laughed at this, he was sure Sherlock would disagree. He sat down on one of the many chairs in the room and looked at the man in front of him expectantly.

"It's quite extraordinary for someone like you to stay unnoticed this long." Charles told John gently.

"Yes, so why only now? I thought people found out about their mutation when they were teenagers" John asked, deciding to voice his thoughts. The older mutant was probably able to see them anyway.

Charles leant forwards a bit and looked John in the eyes.

"That's a good question, Dr. Watson." He said. "What do you know about mutants?"

John thought about that for a while, and then told Charles what popped up into his mind.

"A while back, Sherlock got a case where a mutant was killed, we did research together. The mutation is caused by a gene which is different than that of ordinary humans, and can range from invisibility to controlling the weather."

"Ah, you've read about Storm." Charles smiled.

"It's true that the mutation is caused by a gen which is different, and that there is a wide range of them. You can say that the mutation is another step in evolution, a new way to protect the specie. The gene activates when the carrier experiences heavy emotions or fear. Teens feel like that a lot, don't they?" It was a rhetorical question, but John nodded anyway.

"So why didn't it happen sooner? I felt like every other teen, and I've been in quite a lot of danger, I invaded Afghanistan. I live with bloody Sherlock Holmes! Believe me, I could've used a bit more protection quite often." He exclaimed.

"But you're also quite an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?" Charles stated, and John was quiet for a moment.

"So I've been told." He sighed eventually.

"You've always liked the danger, the thrill of the chase, so to speak. But what happened three days ago, wasn't fun. You were desperate, frightened that you would lose Sherlock." Charles said calmly.

"There is a possibility that your body thought you'd be able to handle it without help." He continued.

John raised an eyebrow. "Getting shot in the shoulder?" he asked cynically.

"there was a chance that bullet would've gone into your heart, wasn't there?" Charles remarked, ignoring John's tone. John thought about that, maybe it was true, and his body had changed the path of the bullet.

"I'm a mutant." John muttered softly, the realisation just hit him. He put his head in his hands and let out a long breath. "What now?" he asked uncertainly. Charles drove his wheelchair closer and put his hand on John's shoulder.

"That's entirely up to you, Dr. Watson." He answered. John raised his head to look Charles in the eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"You have a few options. You could go back to London, forget about what happened, and continue your life like a normal person, or you could stay here, learn how to control your powers, meeting others like you." Charles suggested.

John took a while to think about the proposal before answering.

"What about Sherlock, can he stay too?" He wondered out loud. "I mean, he isn't a mutant, so..." He drifted off. It wasn't like he was protesting, he wanted to keep the detective as close as possible, certainly after the events of the Fall.

Charles simply smiled at him.

"You can't exactly say he's normal either, can you Dr. Watson?" he inquired.

John chuckled softly at that, and wanted to agree when somebody burst through the door, interrupting their conversation. The man in front of them had short hair and red tinted glasses.

"Professor!" he panted, ignoring John completely. Charles turned to face the new man.

"What's wrong, Scott?" He asked calmly.

"Somebody managed to break into the underground labs."


	2. Chapter 2

Charles seemed genuinely surprised. "Into the labs?" he repeated, and Scott nodded. John sighed, already knowing who the intruder was, but the other two men ignored him.

"Alright, John, we'll continue this conversation later, and you can tell me your decision then." Charles decided, before turning back to Scott. "Scott, go down to the labs, find this person and bring them to me."

"Can I come along?" John asked. Scott turned his glassed gaze to him, and raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by the sweater wearing man in front of him.

"And who might you be?" he asked. John gritted his teeth, he started to dislike the man.

"I am Dr. John Watson, former Captain of the fifth Northumberland fusiliers." He said, rising from his seat. He took on his military stance to make up for what he lacked in height. The two glared at each other until Charles cleared his throat.

"Scott, take Dr. Watson with you." He told Scott, and the man muttered an agreement.

Scott walked out of the room, motioning for John to follow. As soon as they were out of the professor's sight, Scott started to run. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was trained in the military , and he had maintained his stamina by chasing criminals through the backstreets of London with Sherlock. If the mutant in front of him really thought he could shake John off by bursting into a sprint, he was wrong.

John almost missed the door Scott slipped through. The other side of it was completely different from the hallway they had been in before. Instead of the warm colour of wood, they were surrounded by white lights and metal doors, and John had the feeling he'd walked straight in to a science fiction movie. They moved through the maze of corridors in silence until Scott opened one of the metal doors.

The X on it split, and John tried not to snort, which earned him a glare. He couldn't help it though, why did it all have to be so dramatic?

Behind the door was the lab Scott had been talking about. John knew he was gaping, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been in a lot of laboratories, but this one was different. Bart's lab was quite upscale, but the equipment and devices here were way more advanced. Besides the standard equipment, there were devices that John had never seen before, and he got the idea that most of it was made just for this laboratory.

Between all those appliances stood a tall men with messy dark curls and a wicked smile on his face. Sherlock was exploring everything he could lay his hands on, and he looked like a child in a candy shop. John laughed softly, which caught his friend's attention.

"Ah, John, there you are. How did your conversation with Charles Xavier go?" Sherlock asked without looking up.

"Quite well, actually, until Scott stormed in. How long did it take them to discover you here?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged. About 35 minutes. They are slower than Mycroft." He replied.

"You know this man, Dr. Watson?" Scott interrupted sounding irritated.

"Yes, I do. Scott, this is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Scott..." John trailed off, he didn't know Scott's surname.

"Scott, yes." Sherlock stated, taking in every detail he could see. "Definitely a mutant, something with your eyes, something dangerous, if you hide them. Laser eyes? You're here because you've got nowhere else to go. You're in love with somebody, but she died. You're a teacher, although you don't have the enthusiasm to do so anymore-" a warning glare from John stopped Sherlock mid deduction. "Not good?" he asked.

"Bit not good, Sherlock." John sighed, watching Scott, who had turned pale, and looked ready to attack the detective. "I'm sorry Scott, he's always like this." John apologized half heartedly.

"Whatever." Scott snapped, before turning around and walking back the way he and John came from. "Get him out of our labs, bring him to the professor. I'm sure you can handle this freak." He called over his shoulder. John cringed slightly at the familiar nickname, but Sherlock wasn't too bothered.

"That's rich, coming from a mutant." The detective sneered before the door closed again.

"We really need to work on your social skills, Sherlock." John sighed, leaning against one of workbenches. Sherlock paused whatever it was what he was doing and looked up.

"You don't like him either." He pointed out.

"I know Sherlock, but he's one of the teachers here, and we shouldn't make enemies." John replied.

"You are staying then?" Sherlock asked, although they both knew the answer.

"Yes, you can too, if you want too. We should probably go to Charles though." John answered, before walking towards the door. Sherlock quickly followed, and together they made their way back to the office.

Charles had been impressed by Sherlock's deducing abilities, and the fact that the detective had gotten into the lab, and hadn't bothered trying to hide it. Sherlock had just shrugged and asked if he could have access to all labs and training rooms. Charles had smiled and agreed quickly.

"I guess that means you've made your decision John?" He asked the shorter man out of the two. John smiled and nodded. "Alright. You should ask Ororo if she can show you a free room after dinner. Everything else was sorted out surprisingly quickly, and after their meal with the other inhabitants of the school, Sherlock and John were on their way too their shared room, following a woman with short white hair who had introduced herself as Ororo Monroe, or Storm, if they wanted to call her that.

The room was nothing like 221B, but John could see charm of the place, the wood gave the room a cosy look. He dropped his bag on the left bed, and unzipped it to put his things in one of the wardrobes. Sherlock flopped down on the other bed, and he sighed contently.

"This place is full of mysteries John, there is so much to explore and examine." He told his flatmate, a childish grin on his face. John turned to look at Sherlock.

"This place or the people here?" he asked.

"Both." Sherlock answered after hesitating for a moment. John chuckled happily, and Sherlock soon joined him.

"I know you want to experiment with the mutations," John started, and he smiled as he saw the twinkle in his best friends eyes. "You can use my DNA, or cells, or whatever you need, just leave the students alone, alright?" Sherlock seemed to consider the cons off promising something like that, but he remembered what John had said about making enemies in this place an hour or so prior.

"I promise."

"Alright. Let's catch some sleep, the jetlag is starting to catch up with me." John yawned.

"My body doesn't need as much sleep as yours John." Sherlock protested half-heartedly.

"Whatever, I'm sure you could use a kip as well right now." John muttered, crawling in to his bed after changing into his pyjamas.

"good night John." Sherlock said before flicking off the lights.

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and favourites. I don't really know what way I'm going with this, but I like this idea so much. (and I'm heavily denying the existence of season 3) If you want to ask something, don't hesitate to pm me, and I'll react to reviews to of course. (Thank you guest :P)**


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please." John begged as he pushed through the crowd which had gathered, surrounding the body on the pavement. He felt people trying to hold him back, but he ignored them, desperately trying to get close to Sherlock.

"No, he's my friend. He's my friend. Please…" he moaned as he got a clear view of Sherlock's damaged body. John reached for Sherlock's arms, searching for a pulse, although he knew there was no way somebody could survive a fall like that. He choked back a cry as somebody pried his fingers from Sherlock's wrist and gently dragged him away.

Medics arrived, and the crowd parted for them. Sherlock was turned on his back, revealing his lifeless eyes, and John screamed.

"John, wake up!"

John woke with a start, almost head butting Sherlock, who was hovering over him, gently shaking his shoulders.

"You were having a nightmare." Sherlock said, stating the obvious. John pulled the taller man into a hug and buried his face in Sherlock's pyjama clad chest. "Don't ever do that again." He muttered. Sherlock didn't have to ask what he shouldn't do ever again. "I won't." He promised, wrapping his arms around John's quivering form. "I won't."

After a while John had calmed down enough to talk normally, and he untangled himself from Sherlock.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked.

"You did, but I've had enough sleep anyway." Sherlock said dismissively.

"Did I scream?" John asked, looking around the room they were staying in, desperately wishing he didn't.

"You did." Sherlock said softly. John groaned in embarrassment and rubbed his face. He just hoped that the walls were soundproof, and he hadn't just woken up the students in the dorm rooms surrounding theirs.

"I'm sorry." John mumbled. Sherlock shrugged in response.

"Come on," he said while getting up, distracting his friend was all he could do right now. "Let's see if those Americans have decent tea hidden in their kitchen." John chuckled softly in response, and got up too, grabbing his shoes and putting them on quickly, while Sherlock did the same.

Together they walked to the common room they had eaten supper with the others the evening before. John flopped down on a chair at the table as Sherlock started his quest for tea.

Until then John hadn't thought about what would have happened if his mutation hadn't showed in time, but the nightmare had violently pushed the possibilities to the front of his mind. He swallowed thickly as the images replayed in his head again and again. He didn't need his knowledge as a doctor to know what damage a fall from that height could do, and his mind kept supplying him with memories of Sherlock's mangled body in his dream.

Sherlock walked back into the room, holding two mugs. He placed one in front of John, who gratefully wrapped his hands around it, and sat down on a chair next to him.

"They don't have a kettle." Sherlock said apologetically when he saw John cringe slightly at the taste.

"I'm not sure if this stuff is actual tea either, but they didn't have any of our brands." He continued awkwardly as John kept quiet. He didn't like it when John kept quiet, it was never a good sign.

"What was your plan Sherlock?" John asked quietly, slowly raising his face to lock eyes with Sherlock. "I mean, I understand that you were going to jump of a building, but did you really want..?" John railed off. The pain in the doctor's voice was almost touchable, and suddenly Sherlock had a hard time swallowing.

"No." He whispered, because he couldn't manage much volume in his voice at the moment. They sipped their awful tea together until Sherlock had gathered the courage to tell the story of what happened that day.

He explained how Mycroft had helped giving Moriarty the feeling of having the winning had, how they speculated about the possible outcomes, and how those all ended up in suicide, how they managed to find solutions for every outcome. John was pale and the tremor was back in his hand.

"How many people knew about this, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock recognized the anger in his voice, and tried to think of a way to tell him without hurting him to badly. John, however, didn't take Sherlock's silence well.

"how many people, Sherlock?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

"Just a few." Sherlock answered elusively. He registered John's facial muscles tightening, and his pupils narrowing, and he knew what was coming before John roared: "HOW MANY?!"

Sherlock flinched. He understood how John felt.

"Mycroft, Molly, and a few people of the homeless network, one of them was a mutant, who can teleport." He stated as quickly as possible.

"A pathologist with a massive crush on you, a brother you practically can't stand, and a hundred tramps?" John was trying not to shout, but it didn't really work.

"Twenty five, tops." Sherlock protested half heartedly.

"You trusted twenty five tramps, but you didn't trust me?"

"John..."

"No, don't you 'John' me, Sherlock. Would you have told me? Or would you have left, just letting me believe you were dead?" John demanded.

"Of course not!" Sherlock snapped, although that actually had been the plan.

"Your life was in danger. Moriarty had a sniper positioned to shoot you if I hadn't jumped, and two others for Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. I couldn't have let that happen!"

John was about to snap something back when a man with a bottle of beer walked into the room.

When the argument didn't continue he looked up.

"Don't let me stop you, your little shouting match was quite interesting." He chuckled, combing a hand through his brown and Sherlock looked at each other in surprise.

"Who are you?" John asked eventually, to break the silence. The new man scoffed.

"Good question." He bitterly muttered under his breath. John tried not to blink in surprise, but Sherlock gave the man one of his signature looks.

"You're a mutant, and you heal faster than anybody else, you worked in the army, but stopped a long time ago. You also worked as a lumberjack, and you suffer from memory loss." Sherlock said, voicing the deduction he made in his head. John lightly nudged his arm.

"Tact." He muttered, when Sherlock looked at him distortedly.

The man in front of him just stared at Sherlock in surprise.

"So you're the new mutant, eh?" he asked.

"No, that's me. Sherlock here's a detective, seeing your life story in a single glance is his specialty."John sighed. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah sure, if he isn't a mutant, he was probably just lucky." He said. Sherlock took a step forward, slightly broadening his chest.

"You're wearing dog tags, and your stance screams military. You don't have any scars whatsoever, and you are walking around in a school for mutants. Which suggests you're a mutant yourself. You have a physical mutation, which allows you to heal at a much quicker rate than others. The tags are quite old, the U.S. military uses a newer kind of dog tags now. The fact that you were a lumberjack was a bit harder to figure out, but it's written all over your hands, apparently your mutation didn't stop your body from forming callus, during the years of hard work."

Sherlock paused dramatically, before adding: "Am I right?" as a challenge. The man grinned and extended his hand.

"I'm Logan." He introduced himself. "And you were right about almost everything." The moment Sherlock grabbed his hand, three razor sharps blades shot out from between his knuckles.

"Christ!" John cursed as Sherlock jerked his hand back in shock. Logan's grin grew even bigger.

"This is my mutation." He stated as he retracted the claws back into his body.

Sherlock turned to John, a childish twinkle in his eyes.

"John?"

"Only if Logan is okay with it, otherwise you'll only have me. You know the deal." John told Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and turned back to Logan.

"Can I examine your DNA?" he asked.

Logan thought about that for a while. There had been enough experimenting with his DNA, but he had the feeling the Brit was only curious. Sherlock saw his doubt.

"John agreed, if it makes you feel better, we can do it at the same time?"

Logan looked at John, who was the smallest out of the two other men. He seemed to be completely at ease around Sherlock.

"I'll think about it." He decided. Sherlock's whole face lit up with excitement.

"You're not going to try this with everyone." John warned. "Summers dislikes us enough as it is, let's not give him a reason to work us out."

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. John gave up on looking strict and smiled warmly at his friend.

"Let's flush that horrible tea away and go back to sleep." Sherlock nodded in response, and the two left the room.

Logan stared after the two of them. He liked those Brits.

**A/N: Tadaaa. I'm so proud I've finished this. (1500+ words! Yeey) you know the whole deal, I don't own any of this, I don't make profit of this, I purely do this for fun. If you want to ask anything, pm me, just leave a review or favourite. **


	4. Chapter 4

John sighed as he watched Sherlock preparing the syringe. It was the fourth time they were going to try collecting blood to search for his mutation in just as many days, and he was sure Sherlock wouldn't find anything this time either, but the detective had insisted they would try again, and John had reluctantly agreed.

A few feet away from them was Logan, Sherlock had taken blood from him earlier, and almost immediately found the mutation in his DNA. Sherlock and John had been at the school for almost a week, and John was starting to think that he might not be a mutant after all. He couldn't repeat anything he had done at the time of Sherlock's fall, and it was getting him down more than he expected, or was willing to admit.

John decided to voice those thoughts when Sherlock rolled up his sleeve, gently pushing the needle in the vein in his elbow.

"Sherlock, I don't think it will work." He started, trying not to feel too bad at the confession. Sherlock just smirked in response, the look on his face told John the detective would try something new, although John couldn't think of anything himself.

"Oh I think it will." Sherlock stated confidently. John frowned at him, trying to find out what he meant with that.

"But we have tried the same thing four times already." He protested.

"Something might be different this time." Sherlock stated.

As soon as Sherlock had said that, John saw something flying straight at them out of the corner of his eye and it only took him a fraction of a second to realise Logan had just thrown an empty beaker at them with full force. He raised the arm Sherlock wasn't holding sharply, trying to shield his face from the projectile and the beaker flew to the side, shattering dramatically when its changed course made it collide with the wall of the lab.

John stared at the shards, and turned back to Sherlock, who was now grinning widely, holding a syringe filled with John's blood.

"You didn't." He growled. Sherlock just looked at him innocently. "You are absolutely unbelievable! You promised not to experiment on me without my knowledge!" John stalked out of the laboratory, feeling angry with everything, including the ridiculous sliding door, which wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of slamming it.

He decided to take a walk around the school grounds to calm his anger. In the back of his mind he knew Sherlock really hadn't meant to be disrespectful towards him and had just acted out of curiosity like he always did, but the man should at least have asked before experimenting on him like that.

A few kids were playing basketball on a small field, and John paused his brisk pace to look at them. The game was good, although a bit unfair on one side. John was contemplating helping the losing theme when they suddenly started to use their powers. A young kid who had managed to get the ball simply teleported past the defence and scored easily. Another one ran so fast John could hardly follow him with his eyes and took the ball from the opposing team.

John sighed and continued his walk. Even a couple of teenagers had more control over their powers than he had over his. He rounded the corner of the big mansion, and saw a young woman sitting on the stone bench in front of the large fountain. When he came closer, he saw it was the girl with the white streak in her had he'd seen outside the professor's room the day Sherlock and he arrived at the mansion.

He would've left her to her own devices if she hadn't been crying again. He didn't know much about her except her codename, Rogue, but it felt wrong to leave her like that without checking if he could help her with anything, whereby just walking past her was not an option. It probably was his doctor's instinct yelling at him to help the young woman.

So John swallowed his wounded pride and slowly approached Rogue.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, but what's wrong?" He asked her when he was a few yards away from her. Rogue was obviously startled by John suddenly addressing her, but she tried to hide it.

"It's nothing really," she answered a little bit too quickly, whipping her eyes dry with a gloved hand. John smiled slightly at the way she tried to hide her emotions, although it was a bit useless.

"Is it okay if I sit down next to you then?" He asked. "I'm having quite a bad day, and this seems like a good place to calm down for a bit."

Rogue shrugged and scooted over a little bit, patting the space on the bench next to her as an invitation for John to sit down. John shot her a grateful smile and sat down next to her. After a few moments of silence, Rogue cleared her throat. John turned towards her a bit so that he could look at her.

"I'm just so fat up with everything," She confessed softly, starting the rant that followed. "Everybody is going on and on about being proud of being a mutant, but none of the people who say that struggle with their mutations. It's horrible not being able to touch people. I'm still not able to control my mutation, so of what use is it to me?" She ended with a soft sigh, glaring at her gloved fingers.

"I know. I feel the same." John told her. Rogue lifted her head and looked at him cynically "Do you?"

John smiled at her, his anger ebbing away completely. "I only discovered my mutation a week or so ago, and I'm not able to use it when I want to." He explained. "I'm John Watson, by the way." He said as an afterthought.

"My name is Rogue." Rogue said back. John knew it wasn't her real name, but before he could decide if he was going to say anything about that, she added: "But you can call me Marie if you want to."

**A/N: Hello everybody, first of all, I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. It's been ages since I last updated this, and I know how annoying it is to wait for a chapter of a fic you like. Secondly, I'm so happy with each and every one of you for reading this! Thank you for your great patience with me, and I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait a bit. I'd wish I was able to promise you I'll update soon, but I don't know when I'll be able to again, and it would be unfair to get your hopes up. **


	5. Chapter 5

John and Marie sat in front of the large fountain on the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters together. It was a bit odd for John, because he wasn't used to talking to teenagers so easily, and although Marie was almost a grown up, he still felt as if the age gap was gigantic. The doctor liked talking with somebody beside Sherlock this openly though, and Marie was honestly interested in the stories he had about Sherlock and 'The Work'.

"But how did you realise that you are a mutant?" Marie asked after he finished telling her the story of the hounds of Baskerville. John stiffened slightly at that.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it." Marie told John hastily when she noticed how his expression darkened. John shook his head, dismissing her worries.

"It might be good to talk about it." He answered. Marie just nodded at that.

"The criminal I told you about earlier, James Moriarty, managed to make the whole of England, including the police, doubt Sherlock." John started. Had it really only been a few weeks? It seemed like ages had passed since then. "Two children had been abducted, and Sherlock found them just in time to save them from mercury poisoning. When he wanted to ask the girl some questions, she started screaming at the sight of him. Because of that, the yard thought Sherlock had something to do with the abduction and he was arrested eventually, which only made the thought that Sherlock wasn't who he said he was stronger.

"Sherlock and I managed to escape from the police, but before we could prove Sherlock's innocence, Moriarty came out with the story he was Richard Brooke, an actor hired by Sherlock. And of course the public believed all of it. I only left Sherlock alone at Bart's hospital for a little while, because I got a message that Mrs Hudson had been shot, but when I returned Sherlock was standing on top of that roof." John's voice broke and he had to pause his story.

Marie put a gloved hand on his arm. "Please, continue," she requested gently. John nodded and started talking again.

"Sherlock, he called me." John shook his head. "it was surreal, we were so close and he had to call me to be able to talk to me. He said it was a magic trick, told me he was a fake. He told me goodbye and dropped the phone." Marie's grip on his arm tightened.

"I've never felt that powerless, never in my life. I could only watch as my best friend simply stepped off of the damned roof, and I broke into a sprint but when I got to the other side of the ambulance station the whole world had stopped. I'm not even exaggerating my feelings or anything, it had just stopped, there were birds hanging still in the air, all the cars had stopped moving, and hovering just inches above the ground was Sherlock."

"Well, that must have been a surprise," Mary remarked dryly, successfully breaking the dark tension that had formed around them and causing John to chuckle.

"You can say that again, weirdest day of my life, and I invaded Afghanistan." The two laughed happily together. Their talk had cheered the both of them up immensely.

"I'm going back to the mansion, I've got some stuff to talk about with Bobby." Marie decided when she was sure her new friend was okay. She got up from the bench, dusted of her clothing and flashed him a grin.

"Thank you for talking to me, Cap John."

John watched her as she walked towards the mansion, now full of confidence. It was quite special that talking to a stranger like that had had such a good effect on both of their moods. His bad temper had almost completely disappeared, but he still wasn't looking forward to facing Sherlock again. Deciding to put it off for a bit longer, he leaned against the backrest of the bench and enjoyed the clear weather.

Of course his peace couldn't last long, it never did. After about five minutes, Sherlock appeared out of nowhere. "John, I'd like to apologize," he started solemnly. John couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows. Sherlock apologizing? Now that was something else. "What, that's what I'm supposed to do right? Apologize for experimenting without your knowledge?" Sherlock asked upon seeing John´s expression, feeling mocked.

"Yes it is, I just didn't expect you to do it." John replied.

"Well, you were right. It was not good to do it, sorry. But you have to admit, it gave us results."

John sighed quasi exasperated. There was the Sherlock he knew.

"Alright," the army doctor started, deciding to humour Sherlock. "What did you find out?"

"We've been doing your training sessions all wrong. An important fact about you is that you are an adrenaline junkie, and you perform best under pressure. It's quite logical that your mutation, a natural defence mechanism comes out in stressful situations." Sherlock ranted. John looked at the excitement in his best friends face, and he knew he'd forgiven Sherlock already. It wasn't so much that he had been angry with Sherlock's experimenting, as that he hadn't been told about the detective's plans, again.

"So basically, I can use my mutation easiest when there's adrenaline in my blood?" John asked.

"Yes John, that's what I just told you, did you even pay attention?"

John decided against responding to that and stood up. "Well, we should talk to the Professor about this then, shouldn't we?"

Sherlock simply nodded in response.

"Let's go then."

The two of them walked towards the mansion together, all anger between them forgotten. A few weeks ago, John had thought he would lose his best friend in the world. Now, he felt like he was actually gaining some new ones.

**A/N****: Wel****l, here you guys are. I could come up with a lot of excuses, like the fact that my laptop somehow couldn't read my user account anymore, And I had to get my uncle who lives quite far away from us to fix it, but It isn't really fair, because that happened five weeks ago, and it's been a lot longer since I've written. Thank you for all the support, and please leave a reply if you've got the time. Of course you are always allowed to Pm me too. **

**Love, **

**The Young Writer's Apprentice**


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